eggplant/aubergine

don't stand there like that,
watching me so hard;
forgive me; i'm your little criminal,
forsaking my family, dissenting,
prickly as pears.

fondness and residual hurt
in a fruit basket on your table
are a constant reminder to me,
constantly reminding me that
I must not love you, I must not
love you, your eggplant eyes
your aubergine smile.

And so at night I sit on the rooftop,
mouth full of breezes and intinerant
grapedark voices. I hear yours if I sit very still,
hovering over my shoulder,
with your aubergine eyes,
your eggplant smile,
whispering, “forgive me,
I'm your favourite
criminal.”